


at the bottom of the mountain

by morsultima



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternative Universe - Banana Fish, Canon-Typical Violence, Guns, Knife Wounds, M/M, Maybe Everyone Lives, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29535288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morsultima/pseuds/morsultima
Summary: One moment of (stupid, very stupid) generosity thrusts Eiji into Ash's life. Lives mix and mingle as both Eiji and Ash's pasts are revealed, with lives loved and lives lost these unlikely companions work to uncover the mystery surrounding Banana Fish while figuring out just what they mean to each other in the process.Tags updated as the story progresses.
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 22
Kudos: 39





	1. rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But he had to make sure. The rain was starting to come down harder and harder, like knives against his skin, and he wasn’t sure. He had to make sure.

He started running seriously when he was ten. He was being chased by a dog, and long after it stopped pursuing him, he was still running. He had run all the way to town and, when he realized he’d gone too far, ran all the way back. The burning in his lungs and the way his face was numbed from the brisk winter wind slashing at his skin when he stumbled and tripped his way through his front door, collapsing onto the floor of the entryway, shoes slipped off and forgotten behind him, was something he’d never forget. He’ll also never forget the way his mother and younger sister looked on in horror and relief, seconds away from calling the authorities to report him missing. It was exhilarating, the heaviness of his limbs, the pounding in his ears, the way the world seemed closer, fresher, brighter. It was unlike anything he had experienced before.

He signed up for track and field the next day.

His introduction to pole vaulting came when he was twelve and started training in the summertime outside on the field. He had never seen anything quite like that before, and as soon as he asked his coach to try, he was hooked. Flying through the air, seeing the ground from fifteen, sixteen, seventeen feet up was calming. When his eyes trained on the ground, passing over the bar and then finally he had those seconds to stare up, up, up at the expanse of blue, or cloud, or grey, he was at peace. Even when he was in competition for titles and medals and placements, he met the high bar with grace and ease.

He had his coming of age ceremony when he was thirteen, a private affair his mother had told him was tradition in his family for centuries. After that, his father moved his mother, grandmother and him from their home in Tokyo to the small seaside town of Izumo. While he himself was excited to talk about the ceremony, his family had banned it outside the house. When his sister was born, he remembers that his mother and grandmother were ecstatic, but his father was tight-lipped and silent and left for Tokyo, never to really return to the small seaside town. Eiji was sent to see him every weekend the year after he turned fourteen. His sister never had her coming of age ceremony, or he wasn’t around for it to happen. When he asked his mother about it, she didn’t answer him. He’s still not sure why the move happened. His mother’s cryptic reasoning behind it all, her gentle words of _it’ll make sense later_ , and _just trust your father and I_ , just made Eiji work harder at the sport he loved. If he wasn’t allowed to know why he couldn’t see his father anymore aside from the weekends, he decided that devoting all of his attention to vaulting would make it easier to cope with. Luckily for him, he was right.

He was deemed an Olympic hopeful by the time he was sixteen, and his love for the sport and the calming effects it had on him never changed.

Despite his passion for vaulting, the urge to run and keep running never left his system. He lived and breathed the feeling of the pavement beneath his feet; still does. So when he got a scholarship to study abroad at Columbia University for track and field _and_ his major of English Translation and Literature, well. It was an opportunity he couldn’t say no to.

It’s been about three weeks since he’s been stateside, and he’s just found his groove with practice, training, and some work he has to do before the semester starts. He’ll only be here for about a year or two, depending on if his scholarship gets extended, before heading back to Japan and training full time for the upcoming Olympic games.

On his evening run today, he decided to extend his route an extra half mile. With each practiced step, heels rolling into the bones of his toes as they pound gently down onto the pavement, gait large, arms swinging efficiently, he’s calmed once more. The wind brushes gently past his face and hair, humid and thrumming with energy from an oncoming storm. The heaviness of the musk in the air from the town and the passersby filled his nose as he weaved in and out of alleyways and people alike. It’d rain any second now, and he was still so far from his building.

The one thing he couldn’t stand about running outside were the people. Because of this aversion to people due to growing up in a rather secluded area, he spent most of his time during the first week here in New York City trying to find the route with the least amount of people until he got more comfortable with the dense population. While that route mostly consisted of alleyways that were _far_ more dangerous than the crowded streets, at least he didn’t have to deal with the native New Yorkers.

Rounding the corner of the alleyway that led to his building, he hopped over an obstacle jutting out into the center of the pavement.

Feet skidding to a stop, the air roared and peaked with dew and oxygen and something _different_ before the cacophonous sound of thunder cracking across the New York sky scattered Eiji’s thoughts and made his mind go blank. Rain dropped from the skies above, falling with a fervor like this was the first rain after a dry season. Alarm bells ringing faintly in his mind had his eyes unfocusing, staring down at his feet. His hair stood on end, a voice sliding thick through his mind pressing the words _danger, danger, danger_ into his muscles. His chest heaved, breath stilling, as if he moved this moment of fear, of uncertainty, would escalate beyond manageable proportions. The rain pelted his hot skin, goosebumps breaking out along his bare arms and legs. His eyes were just playing tricks on him. Yes, that was it. He must still be tired.

But he had to make sure. The rain was starting to come down harder and harder, like knives against his skin, and he wasn’t sure. He _had_ to make sure.

Turning slowly, the dim light from the streetlamps burning and humming, adding to the rushing of his blood through his ears, adrenaline surging, the rain pelting his skin harder, his brown eyes tracked over that obstacle once more. _Unmistakably_ human, with a pair of red converse, shoe laces untied and spread out on the wet ground, rivulettes of rainwater pooling over the cloth, darkening blue jeans covering the tops of those shoes, worn and faded with rips in the denim leading up to a slumped torso, a black hood shielding the face from Eiji’s wide, prying eyes. Blond, blond hair spilled from the darkness of that hoodie, and Eiji’s labored breathing picked up after a gasp of it escaped.

A person?

Eiji dropped instantly to his knees beside the person, shaking hands hovering just above a body that was so still, so, _so_ still, reaching for pulse points. He had to force his hands to stop moving just as they were inches above the neck of this person. New York was new, he forced himself to remember. A wounded person wouldn’t take to having any part of them touched so openly if they were somewhat conscious and especially if they just came from a dangerous situation. His adrenaline and this person’s would cause everyone problems and Eiji didn’t know how to communicate well enough in English. He was warned before he came here that not everyone was as kind and forgiving as they were in Japan. He had to be careful, had to be sure that this person wouldn’t attack him.

His mind was moving too fast to even process what was happening. He was in New York, a notorious place for weapons and muggings. Did he even know where to look for weapons? Was this person mugged? Was this person the mugger? All Eiji knew for sure was that this person, whoever they were, _whatever_ they were, was unconscious and unable to attack in such a state.

And besides, Eiji never was one to take the coward’s way out.

He watched from a distant place as a pale hand was placed on the stranger’s upper arm, a stickiness, a warmth, coating what he realized to be his own skin a bit belatedly. Pulling his hand away like a man burned, Eiji felt his breath leave him, sucked from his lungs like it was the last thing his body wanted inside of it. His nostrils filled with the wet, sticky scent of copper masked by rain and electricity from the storm when he had to suck a breath into empty lungs. His chest tightened, and he felt his lungs struggle for air. His mind and the realization of the situation slammed into his body all at once, rocking him to his core. He lost balance, collapsing onto the wet asphalt, heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t look at his hand. Refused to. He was never a stranger to blood, but this was too much. The way the copper and iron overwhelmed his senses and caused his chest to heave, head to pound, heart to stutter in his chest, made him nauseous. It was like every single part of his body was screaming different things at the same time. Eiji couldn’t make sense of it.

“H-hey,” his voice was foreign, shaking and strange, thick with an accent long subdued. He righted himself to his knees, ignoring the rain pelting his upper thighs and torso. The same hand as before, more familiar and present this time, came to rest on the leg of the person that was closest to him. A quick movement of Eiji’s arm, shaking the body beneath his palm, eyes still trained the stillness of the stranger even as their form was rocked by the movement.The stranger’s body slumped backwards, head thumping gently against the brick of the building they were leaning against, rain pelting their barely visible face. Even in this light, he could tell just how pale they were.

Panic surged through Eiji’s muscles like a man possessed, hand flying from the stranger’s thigh to press against their chest. With wild, unblinking eyes, Eiji sent a prayer to the heavens that this stranger was still breathing, that their heart was beating. Whoever this was, they had to be alive. They just had to be.

His lungs screamed with his own held breath, his own heart searching, aching, for the beating beneath his palm, a silent stinging growing in the depths of his stomach, traveling high to pool and tighten in the notch beneath his adams apple and chest.

The sudden, but very subtle movement of ribs beneath Eiji’s hand had a choke sob escape from his throat and echo into the moving air. He barely registered it as his own, the sound foreign. Why was he acting like this? Moving the hand not pressed to the stranger’s chest through his own black, rain soaked hair, a shaky breath slipped between parted, trembling lips.

Eiji turned his body, squatting in between the stranger’s legs, moving on instinct. His mind was somewhere distant, somewhere else where he could process this. A voice loud enough clawed at his conscious mind, words passing through too many barriers to be properly understood, but Eiji didn’t have to translate to know it was telling him that this was wrong. Pushing that murmuring to the side, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Gently, his hands gathered the stranger’s arms and crossed them over his shoulders before hooking under the damp denim beneath the backs of the strangers knees. Shifting backwards just a bit, his back near flush with the stranger’s chest, Eiji exhaled out of his mouth, eyes focused on the brick in front of him. Hearing the crunch of gravel and sand beneath his feet as he shifted his feet out from his deep squat, he counted down from three.

Pushing from the soles of his feet, he strained his muscles and heaved the stranger off the ground, canting his upper body forward so the stranger didn’t smack their head against the brick of the building behind them. He felt the stranger’s arms sway and fall to the sides, and a grunt of exasperation left Eiji’s chest as the deadweight of the stranger slammed into his back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. The near unnatural coldness from the stranger’s body, which he was praying was due to the way the rain soaked through the stranger’s clothes, left Eiji’s stomach churning faster. Faintly, he felt the beating of a heart against his back and it steeled his fraying nerves once more. Even this close to the stranger, he couldn’t hear anything aside from the dewey, humid rain, and the crackle of far off thunder in the air, couldn’t hear any labored breathing or lack thereof. He shifted each of the strangers arms over his shoulders in a feeble attempt to balance the body against his own. In this position, Eiji surmised that this stranger may be a man. He was light, though. Way too light.

Shoving that thought aside, Eiji sighed to himself. What was he supposed to do now? He was too new in New York to know where the local urgent cares or hospitals were, didn’t have his phone on him (not that it’d work without a sim card that he’s been meaning to buy, but just hasn’t yet), didn’t even know this man’s name, and talking to anyone on the street right now, with this unconscious man pressed against his back and most likely bleeding out, he can only imagine they’d think he was insane. His English may be good, but under duress, he doubted he could make a coherent sentence. Even if that wasn’t the case, he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest without knowing the status of the man, if he even woke up, and where he came from, how he got there. He’s resigned himself to letting his gut take over, letting whatever is driving his mind and his body to finish the task at hand. 

Cursing his curiosity under his breath as he trudged through the alleys leading to his apartment, Eiji stuck as close to the shadows as possible. The rain still hadn't let up, and he was starting to get colder and colder, despite the extra body against his own. He tried not to think too hard about the implications of that. His mother had always admonished him for his kind, helping nature, and warned him that his curiosity would only get him into trouble. He remembers heeding her warnings, reminding her that he wasn’t going to get himself into trouble. That was primarily the reason she allowed him to travel to the United States on scholarship and for sports. He was grateful for the opportunity, and so far things haven’t been bad. They’ve been wonderful, in fact. His eyes flickered from the ground to the busy streets as he passed through a small intersection of familiar alleyways. Yellow and Green taxi cabs flew by on the main streets of New York City, with tourists and business-attired people filtering out of shops and bars or hustling to the nearest subway line. The bubbling of voices and sounds rushed through the small space Eiji traveled through, his own mind jumbled and weighed down with stress, only picking up bits and pieces. That’s the one thing he liked when he first came here; the voices. They calmed him when he opened his window at night, and reminded him of the cicadas at home.

Coming from a town as small as his own, he never had to handle the overwhelming atmosphere of a big city. His memory hadn’t developed enough when he was in Tokyo, and he was transported to Izumo too quickly after his ceremony to even really remember what Tokyo had to offer.

He picks up the pace, seeing his apartment building looming on the horizon. He was lucky enough that the man on his back was light enough that he didn’t need to worry about taking the stairs to the tenth floor, but he’s sure his coach would reprimand him for doing so much extra work outside of practice. It was hard enough convincing the American to let him run in his free time. Eiji’s eyebrows furrowed as he keyed into the stairwell leading up, up, up. That was a conversation with his coach that he’d much rather forget.

He took the first eight flights of stairs two by two, muscles straining with the extra load on his back. His breath was coming in puffs by the time he reached the tenth floor, having gone one by one on the last two flights. At least he didn’t have to do his stair exercises tomorrow night. 

Fumbling with the key that was safety-pinned to the inside of the front of his shorts, Eiji managed to get his door open while still having both arms hooked around the stranger’s legs. The familiar feeling of home filled his body with relief, shoulders going a bit lax under the man’s arms. Turning to look at the open door to the hallway, he waited and listened for any sounds or signs of anyone approaching. Luckily for him, none of his neighbors seemed to be stirring at this hour. He kept the door open as he slipped his shoes off at the front entrance, and open it remained as he laid the stranger down onto his couch, hand cupping the back of his head as gently as Eiji could. This wasn’t really his home, and these pieces of furniture weren’t his, either, despite the familiar earthen scent that permeated everything. With a frown and furrowed eyebrows, he decided that any stains that came of this he’d have to worry about later.

He took a moment to stare down at the man on the couch, his own brows furrowing and a frown forming on his face. The very familiar smell of iron and rain filled his lungs once more and Eiji grimaced. What in God's name was happening? An alleyway, an unconscious bleeding man, a gut decision, and a stupid one at that.

Just _who_ was this man?

Eiji hesitantly turned his head to the entrance to his apartment, door still open and inviting. The small puddles of red lying before the entryway were glowing in the fluorescents of the hallway. Grimacing to himself, he quickly grabbed a hand towel and wet it with bleach, making quick work of mopping up the only evidence that there was something amiss. He frowned as he stared down at the small stain that blended surprisingly well into the speckled floor. It wouldn’t matter if this stranger’s blood was on his doorstep, would it? It’s not like this man has someone truly after him, right? Eiji felt his face harden with the realization that maybe this might be something out of his pedigree before shutting his door to close his very stupid gut decision from the prying eyes of his neighbors.

Throwing the towel into the sink to deal with later, Eiji turned on a small lamp on the end table beside the stranger. The hazy yellow light filtered across the dark blues of the coarse cushions of the couch, and gentle off-white walls, flowing down to cast light shadows on the hooded man. With a heavy sigh escaping through his nose, Eiji switched on the two tall lamps in the living room. He needed as much light as he could to deal with… whatever he’s gotten himself into. He didn’t realize his hands were shaking until he reached for the hanging switch for the last light.

He stared at the wall for what felt like forever before he looked back at his living room, taking it in with its new addition. The sleeping body, the light, the familiarity but still foreignness of his apartment, the quietness, the sound of doors closing in the hallway from floors above and below. The overwhelming realization that this was the first person to ever step foot in his apartment sent a wave of nauseous loneliness throughout his body and a dark fear building just below his heart. It crawled up his torso and threatened to block his throat. If he pushed the fear aside, he found that, in a way, this was oddly domestic. Eiji hasn’t really made friends yet, aside from the members of his track team; although, he’s not entirely sure if they’d count as friends. If the situation was different, and this were a friend on his couch, sleeping off a nasty hangover or just coming to rest for the night, he wonders if it’d still have the same lonely feeling. Another heavy sigh heaved from his lungs. This is surely going to take years off his life.

He headed next into the bathroom to grab his first aid kit, trying desperately to stop the shaking in his hands by focusing them on other things. He wasn’t afraid anymore, he realized as he opened the cabinet to fish out the kit, he was just cold and tired. Despite the fear that’s been crawling through his veins, and the way that the heart inside his chest pounded and thudded against his ribs, he was calm. He just hopes that his hands will be stable enough to patch up whatever wounds the stranger has. 

Heading back into the living room, he found the stranger still asleep. Eiji didn’t realize just how relieving that was until the tension in his jaw loosened. Brows furrowing, he knelt beside the stranger and started unzipping the black hoodie he was wearing. A white, strikingly so, T-Shirt, damp with rain and what Eiji could assume would be sweat, was being stained red. A bloody handprint, his own, was pressed into the spot above the man’s heart. Copper and iron surged into the air, the sound of the zipper ending masking the soft gasp that left Eiji’s lips. He was too focused on the way that the two colors, contrasting and much too bright, were merging into a pink as the rainwater fell off the hoodie and onto the fabric to hear himself make the sound.

“What happened to you,” Eiji murmured softly, hands moving to push the hood back to finally see the face that had been hidden all this time.

His hand paused on a cold forehead, brushing hair out of his view, eyes zeroing in on the face beneath, now visible. The man was resting peacefully, eyes shut. The lines of this person’s face were still soft, not yet sharp like a man’s, and he was young. That was the first thing that Eiji noticed; this boy was so incredibly young, definitely close to Eiji’s age, but still so young. There were no signs of turmoil on that sleeping face, just contentedness and the lingering look of exhaustion that was fading with each minute asleep. Eiji wondered briefly what would cause him to look like this, so calm despite the wound on his body. Surely he must be in terrible pain, right?

Steadied hands, now warm with the heat from the body beneath them and somber with the thought of what could’ve happened to have it end up like this, worked deftly to pull that white and pink and red shirt up to see what he was working with. Looking on at the angry wound, undoubtedly a knife wound with the way the skin was split just so, that cut upwards from just to the left of the stranger’s belly button, Eiji’s frown deepened. It split the skin up diagonally towards the stranger’s right pectoral, infection curling viciously outwards on pale white skin, littered with lightning strikes of old scars and healed skin. Eiji quickly concluded that this wasn’t anything new to this boy. Perhaps the calm look meant that this wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

He prodded the area around the wound briefly, his fear spiking when he found the opened skin not only still bleeding and deeper than he thought, but ridiculously hot. Well so much for thinking it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

Turning to open the first aid kit, Eiji paused, staring down at the contents. There was everything he needed here, but… Dark eyes flashed up towards the wound once more. He went over the signs for when a wound realistically would need stitches in his head. It was deep, it was angry, and still bleeding in some places. Maybe when the stranger wakes up, Eiji would be able to convince him to seek medical attention. For now, he’ll have to stumble his way through the process by himself. Taking out the antiseptic, adhesive butterfly stitches, and some medical tape and gauze, Eiji got to work.

It was a slow, delicate process of starting from the bottom, cleaning the wound with cotton doused lightly in the antiseptic, then gently taking the skin, pushing it together, and closing it with the bandages. Eiji spent most of his time ensuring the wound was as clean as he could get it without causing discomfort in the sleeping form before him. Not being able to see the discomfort in the face of the man sleeping had him tune in to the way the muscles twitched beneath his fingers, and he was sure to monitor the breathing of the stranger, too, however shallow it was. He was happy to see the bleeding slowed to a stop after enough light pressure and took a bit of pride in his job so far. He worked bloody fingers up a firm, pale torso until the entire wound was pinned shut. Eiji took out more cotton balls and the alcohol that was packed away in the kit to start cleaning the excess blood off of the man’s torso.

Rising to his feet after a job well done in his own opinion, Eiji leaned over the man and lowered the stranger's shirt, zipping the hoodie back up. He gathered the things he needed to throw out in his hands and had to take a moment to let himself process the bloody mess and what exactly it meant. After a quick trip to the garbage in the kitchen, Eiji gathered his first aid kit and wandered, mind far away and reeling from the events of tonight, towards the bathroom.

Just what was he getting himself into? This was very out of character, even for him, to take a stranger in out of nowhere, and bandage him. His mind has already come to terms with the fact that if the stranger stayed, he’d be okay with that, too. Eiji’s hands closed the cabinet above the sink where his first aid kit was now neatly nested and came face to face with his reflection. His own expression tore into him, tired eyes, damp hair, bloodied shirt and neck. He’ll have to change, and if he can, get the blood out of these clothes before practice tomorrow. How would he explain this to his coach?

What had to be the sixteenth sigh left Eiji’s lips as his eyes closed, hands resting on the edge of the sink. There was a deep-set exhaustion sliding thick through his bones, clawing at his muscles and limbs and begging for attention. This is exactly what he was trying to get away from when he left Japan, this exhaustion that seemed to creep into his being at any moment, and it seems to have followed him here, thousands of miles away, as well.

He felt the cold sting of metal pressing into his side before he could truly register what was happening.

Eyes flashing open, heart thumping hard in the space between his ribs, Eiji’s eyes met emeralds in the mirror then slowly slid down to his hands gripping the sink.

_Shit._

Eiji’s bathroom had always been small, that was one of the things he lamented when he arrived in the states and moved into his new apartment. It was small, all too white, smelled of nothing but humidity and bleach, and the tub certainly wasn’t big enough for someone so accustomed to baths. 

Now, with two people standing in it, it felt even smaller.

The metal against his side pushed in harder, a bruise threatening at first, then begging to be large and circular by this time tomorrow. How would he explain _that_ to his coach? How could he explain _anything_ at this point?

It was Eiji who spoke first, his English soft, as if saying it any louder would cause the tension that crawled into his lungs and out over his skin to snap, “I see you are awake.”

The metal pressed harder against his side, a faint click heard. Eiji’s eyes searched the sink, knuckles going white with his iron grip on the porcelain. He could recognize the sounds of a gun when he heard them, but usually he was never on the receiving end of them. Back home in Japan guns were hard to come by, if they were even available at all. Was it so different in New York, in the United States, that guns were the only way to truly protect yourself?

When the stranger behind him did not respond, Eiji lifted his eyes to meet fiery jade once more. He didn’t quite know what he was looking for in those deep rivers of green, but he held that gaze in the mirror stubbornly.

“I found you,” Eiji supplied without a tremor in his voice, giving context without being asked. Despite his calm exterior, his heart was erratic in his chest. “In the alley. You were unconscious and bleeding. The rain had come, and I did not think. I could not let you stay out there, alone, to die.”

Those green eyes flicked quickly down to what Eiji could assume to be his hands on the sink before they locked gazes once more. If Eiji wasn’t negotiating for his life one-sidedly, he’d find those eyes immensely alluring. Chasms of green meant to be traversed and sunken in to with secrets meant to be found and puzzles to be solved sucked him in, but Eiji held his ground.

“I do not want to harm you,” Eiji’s voice sounded strange. It was too soft for a situation like this. Belatedly, Eiji realized his hands must still be covered in this person’s blood. He doubts that’s helping his case right now.

“Who sent you.” That certainly wasn’t a question.

“I was running,” Eiji said.

“From who,” the stranger, voice gruff, pried. It was hoarse with disuse, an octave lower than what Eiji surmised to be the normal tone.

“I was not running from anyone. I run for exercise.”

Jade green searched the deep brown-black of Eiji’s eyes before the pressure against his body lessened, if only a fraction.

Eiji’s own eyes widened slightly, realization melting into shock, then finally meeting green with steely, annoyed black. His voice came out a little larger, more intent behind each word as it passed through his lips, a threatening cadence begging to slip out with each word, recognizing the challenge, the “ _do it, i dare you_ ” as it was given to him. “I will have you know, this is a test I intend to pass.” Despite the threat of dominance, Eiji managed, somehow, to keep it out of his voice. _You don’t know this man_ , he reminded himself. _You cannot play with fire and expect to not get burned._

The blond eyebrows above those striking eyes pulled together, lips parting ever so slightly. The gun moved from Eiji’s body entirely, and the stranger took a step back. Eiji watched his retreat with fierce eyes.

“You’re sharper than you look,” The stranger said, hands shifting the weapon to tuck it behind his back. “But you’re an idiot.”

Eiji whirled around, finger pointed at that stranger in his home. He watched those eyes widen once more, this time with shock. Eiji knew he was strong, he knew he was capable of handling whatever this now semi-unarmed man would do, but the words that left his mouth in a flurry without intent of dominance or a fight surely would send him to his grave, “And _you_ have no manners.” Somewhere in his rational mind, Eiji was kicking himself. The stranger was right, what an idiot.

Turning back to the sink, Eiji flicked on the faucet and washed his bloodied hands with the lavender scented soap on the counter. He really _was_ an idiot. Especially now, with his back to this man. Eiji didn’t hear him arrive in the bathroom, much to his own dismay, so he doesn’t imagine he’d be able to hear the sound of his death before it arrived. Even if the stranger was mere inches away from him.

“Manners,” The stranger choked out, and Eiji humored him with a pointed look and a raised eyebrow. “You’re worried about _manners_ when someone just had a gun to your back?”

Stopping the faucet, watching the pink swirl down the drain, Eiji shook his hands to get the excess water off of them. He stared at that man in the mirror once more, “Yes, _manners_. I assume that when you were blacking out, you expected to wake up in the same alleyway, yes? Not only did you not wake up in that alleyway, but you were unharmed, patched up, and sleeping on a couch. If you did not want to be here, you could just have easily left out the same door I carried you through.” Eiji watched as green eyes flickered to the blood stains on his damp blue and white running shirt. He’ll definitely have one hell of a time cleaning all of that out of the fabric and making sure that it stays gone. “As you can tell, and probably could tell from the moment you woke, you were not ever thought of as a prisoner here.”

It seemed like this stranger, with his blond hair and jewels for eyes couldn’t seem to understand just how Eiji processed this situation so differently, given the way that his face screwed up with confusion and… indignation? Why was this man angry all of a sudden?

“You,” the blond began. Eiji’s eyes bored into his, taking a soft inhale of panic through his nose, masked as a normal breath, as the blond found his words once more. “Are absolutely insane.”

“Says the man who pulled a gun on me before asking questions,” Eiji murmured. He brushed past the stranger, being sure not to touch him, and went into the living room. He walked into the kitchen and pulled out his kettle, figuring this was as good a time as any to make his evening tea. He needed something to calm him, to get the vision of blood and wounds out of his mind.

The man followed him into the kitchen, footsteps barely audible now against the carpet and hardwood floors, voice absolutely aghast, almost offended, “Do you have no sense of self-preservation, at all?”

“Oh please,” Eiji said, filling the kettle with water. “If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done so already.” He knew that much to be true.

The stranger’s green eyes twitched and he took a step towards Eiji, to which Eiji held a hand up, eyes focused on his task. His voice was curt, “I would suggest you do not do that.” He had the upper hand, being in the kitchen, with all of his cooking utensils and pots and pans around him. With his adrenaline and the stranger’s, they were both playing a very dangerous game. Even if the man managed to get his gun out, Eiji would be faster. The iron kettle now filled with water would do a lot of damage and Eiji’s background of track and field left him flexible, strong, and ready for anything. The stranger seemed to understand Eiji’s upper-hand as well, considering all movement stopped. It was either that, or he genuinely thought Eiji insane. Eiji wasn’t sure which one was worse.

“What is wrong with you,” The blond said, unmoving, voice softer than it has been, not so gravelly anymore.

Eiji, placing the kettle onto the stove and lighting the burner, looked at the man, “Nothing is wrong with me. It is you that something is wrong with. I did not even receive a thank you for taking you in, nor do I know your name. Surely, without my taking you in, you would have died of infection before you woke.”

Eiji watched as the stranger’s hand pressed lightly to his abdomen, face contorted with so many mixed emotions. Eiji had a hard time deciphering what the man was thinking about or feeling for that matter. 

“You,” The blond said again, eyes flicking down to the space between them, then back up to lock eyes with Eiji. “ _Where_ is your sense of self-preservation?” There was that word again. Self-preservation. “You’re obviously foreign, and you don’t know what it’s like in this city.”

Eiji’s gaze held fast to those jade green eyes, but he did not falter, his words laden with exhaustion, mentally kicking himself for knowing that his eyes said more than he intended them to, “You do not know the first thing about me.”

Eiji was the first to turn around and grab a cup from the cabinet above the sink, breaking eye contact only when the stranger blinked. His hands grabbed a mug he brought from Japan. This was rare for Eiji, this courage, this annoyance. It was like dealing with his younger sister all over again when they would bicker at home. He was taught to always be calm, to be collected and assured. Right now, dealing with this, there was a naivety in him, a lack of compassion and just overall arrogance. Eiji should be terrified, should be scared of this man who just so easily can wander around his apartment without noise and has a gun on him. New York was always going to be a challenge, but this was something else.

Why wasn’t he scared?

“Who are you?” the blond whispered.

Eiji lifted his head from studying the porcelain mug in his hands. It was handmade, and small enough to fit in his luggage, but deep enough to hold just the right amount of tea. His father gave it to him right after his coming of age ceremony, a gift sent by mail. On the bottom of the cup is his family name, the Kanji plain and ordinary against the stark white. His eyes met the blond’s, and he felt the tiredness on his features, despite the way he still held himself, his back straight.

“Is it not customary to introduce yourself first?” Eiji’s voice was soft, a tired smile on his face. “Are all Americans like you?”

They held gazes for a while, so long that the kettle began to whistle, the increasing tension ripped in half by the noise. Eiji once again broke eye contact when the stranger blinked, and tended to the water, grabbing a second cup for this stranger who, he’s assuming by the way this conversation is headed with its impossibly long pauses and ridiculously thick air, is going to stay for a bit longer. 

“Ash.” The blond’s voice cut like a knife through the tension. Eiji’s hands stilled on the spoon he was using to stir the light honey into both teas. He looked up at the blond once more. “My name is Ash.”

Nodding and setting the steeping cup of tea down in front of Ash, Eiji took a sip of his own after a few seconds. When the tea’s intricate flavors coated his tongue and he exhaled softly through his nose, feeling warmth spread from his chest to his toes, he spoke, “Eiji. I am Eiji.”

Ash’s eyes ran over Eiji’s form, and to him, it was like the first time Ash had actually looked at him.

Gesturing to the tea on the table, Eiji took another sip before speaking, “If you wish to have some, it is here for you, but you are also free to go at any time.”

Ash looked down at the cup hesitantly, as if he had never been offered something like this. Eiji watched from over the top of his mug as Ash took the tea and brought it to his lips, taking a slow, cautious sip. Eiji’s eyes slid to a half-lidded position as Ash set the cup down onto the counter.

“Thank you, Eiji,” Ash said, words almost taking a tone of finality.

Eiji’s eyebrows lowered, drawing together, still not looking at Ash, “I will take that as your goodbye, then?”

“You have not stopped surprising me,” Ash admitted, a sigh leaving his lips. “But yes. I hope we never cross paths again.”

Eiji took another slow, annoyed sip of his tea, “You Americans are always rude, aren’t you?” His eyes slipped shut, “ _Sayonara_ , Ash.”

By the time Eiji opened his eyes, Ash was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see y'all in the next one.  
> -mors


	2. encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trains slowed, miraculously lining the windows up, and to Eiji’s surprise, those green eyes were still there, staring at him, watching him. Eiji took another cautious step forward, feet now on the yellow line, letting the crowd filter in front of him to enter the train. His eyes never left Ash’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a beast to edit.

“ _Eiji!_ Pick your knees up! Your _knees_ , son!” 

Not that he really had any choice in the matter, Eiji nodded from his sprawled position on the blue mat that cushioned his 17.5ft fall back to earth. With a grunt of effort and strain, Eiji rolled to his feet and grabbed his pole from it’s discarded position on the track. He was uncomfortable, sweating and breathing heavy. This was going on hour three including team practice, and he was definitely feeling it in his whole body. His coach demanded that he get one perfect vault in before they end for the day, and Eiji promised he’d deliver. His ears were pounding and his mouth tasted like copper. As he trudged on wobbling legs and balancing with shaking core muscles back to one, he wasn’t able to comprehend what was being told to him; not really, anyways. Something about his approach, keeping his knees up and his core tight, forgetting about whatever sounds were floating around the air, finding his calm place, as Coach called it. Layered in there was some sort of promise that this would be the last one he’d have to do for the day as the bar climbed another few inches higher without Eiji noticing. 

Feet behind the start line, pole in hand, Eiji geared up, staring at the now taller mountain he’d have to conquer without really seeing it. Since he started off at Columbia on the track and field team, he’s found that this coach has a nasty habit, one Eiji had never experienced in any of his prior coaches. This coach would put an impossible wall in front of Eiji, and demand he conquer it. While that was normal, if Eiji didn’t surpass that wall, Coach would make the wall higher. He took a deep breath, pollen and the sweet scent of flowers entering his lungs, legs screaming, pleading for him to not do this, screaming for rest. He brought his courage back up with the exhale he released through his dry lips, the determination that was licking at his subconscious kindling once again before seeping into muscle and bone alike. His coaches over the years, and his father, would always tell him it was mind over matter. Mind over matter, above everything else. It helped that he has always been stubborn.

Eiji closed his eyes. Thoughts of the strange man he brought home, that Ash, flashed through his mind. When he opened them, another breath of release exiting his mouth, he took off, legs pumping, muscles straining. He wondered where that boy went off to. He didn’t even know how old he was or why he didn’t make a sound when he moved. Why was he in that alleyway to begin with? He watched himself lower the pole to a perfect horizontal above the ground before slamming it into the box and kicking up. Eiji’s heart beat erratically in his chest, the pressure from hoisting his legs up and over his hips, nearing a perfect vertical line in the air, pressed down into his ribcage. That day was only last week, but it still feels so long ago. Eiji’s still trying to get the blood stains out of his couch, and, to his dismay, his running shirt. Ankles clicking uncomfortably, bringing his sore, exhausted legs together before they twisted over each other, his body following suit, Eiji soared. He wondered what Ash thought of him, if he genuinely thought that Eiji was out of his mind. Ever since the encounter with the blond, Eiji’s chest has felt so heavy with loss but so full of something he didn’t have a name for. As he watched the bar cross his field of view, body floating an impossibly safe distance above it, he closed his eyes. Above all, the worry that constricted his chest whenever he thought about Ash consumed him. He wondered, as he felt his body rise higher, if Ash was okay.

His turbulent thoughts left him as soon as the weightlessness took over. In moments like this, when every aspect of the sport he loved came to a perfect crescendo, rising with his heaving breaths and falling with the weight of gravity, he was free. Opening his eyes as his body shifted in the air, back going nearly now facing and parallel with the ground, he stared up at the sky, oranges and whites and reds peaking out and fading into blue. This was his favorite part. The world slows down around him and he falls for what feels like forever before his body sinks slowly into the cushion beneath him. An exhale through his nose, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and the shock of the mat against his back brought him back down to reality.

He wondered why Ash came to mind to begin with at all as he laid there, staring up at the cloudless blue sky. For his first time in a foreign country, Eiji hadn’t even thought twice about bringing that stranger into his home. While his thoughts of Ash the past week and a half have been few and far between, they were still there. He knows that Ash was unconscious, but bringing him home was against all of his instincts and what his mother had taught him. If he were in Japan, he would’ve stayed with Ash and then called the authorities. From there, they would've parted ways as strangers who just so happened to cross paths. The act of moving and gathering a person, bloodied and unconscious, into his apartment… It just wasn’t like him. Nearly a week and a half later, Eiji is only now just realizing the magnitude of what he did, of how _stupid_ that was. What was he thinking? Not to mention the fact that he’d thought he had enough power in that situation to stop him without even knowing what Ash was capable of. How did he even think that he’d be able to handle a man with a gun, let alone one that was able to walk around his apartment without making a single sound? Not to mention that someone is apparently very familiar with guns. His confidence was out of this world, out of _his_ world, and that mixture of stealth and danger was definitely a cocktail that Eiji didn't have a taste for. Eiji’s silent brooding and muted bafflement was souring the air around him. What’s gotten into him all of a sudden?

Much too deep in thought and drowning in exhaustion, his ears only registered the clapping from his coach as it approached him.

As Eiji’s mind slowly traversed into spatial awareness, he lifted his tired head up to look at the absolutely beaming face of his coach. His wide body, white shirt, and dark skin, glistening from sweating outside with the track team all day, was shining with nothing but pride. This was Coach Mensah, a Ghanaian man fresh to Columbia University for his outstanding performance coaching the last NCAA Track and Field champions, and to complete his Biomedical Informatics masters degree. He was a large man, towering over Eiji’s 5’8 form with ease. Eiji surmised by the height of his teammates that Coach must be at least 6’5. He was built like what his teammates called a “lumberjack.” Eiji figured out that this usually entails a bearded man who chops wood for a living (at least that’s what the google images supplied for him). The only difference was that Coach was not bearded. He didn’t really have any hair aside from his thick eyebrows. Coach Mensah’s method of teaching and coaching was far different from anything Eiji had experienced, but Eiji didn’t mind it. It was tough, but so very rewarding.

“Very nice job,” Coach Mensah said, holding a hand out to grasp Eiji’s, hoisting him up off the mat. “Whatever you did, wherever you were on the last one, you should keep thinking that way. That was a textbook vault, Eiji.”

Eiji stared down at their interlocked hands, a standard hand-pull until Coach released it. The feeling of another person’s hand in his own stayed present in his mind, and it took a few seconds too long to remind himself that it was okay if someone offered to help him. He vaguely remembered the feeling of Ash’s body on his own. He was just _so_ light, and that was something that stood out in his mind. Did the kid even eat? He should really stop thinking like this.

His eyes flickered over to a group of people leaving the area Eiji was in as Coach Mensah began to talk about his last vault of the day. In the few seconds of staring at the group, he noticed first, two boys with blond hair, and three girls, shorter than the blonds. The boys were tall and lanky and nothing like Ash.

Eiji’s mind screeched to a halt. His eyes were staring up at his Coach without actually looking at him as the man prattled on. He felt guilty for not listening completely to what his Coach was saying, but he made sure to nod when prompted and make soft sounds of affirmation when appropriate.

Comparisons like this were not common, and it spread a thick feeling through his chest. Ever since the encounter with the blond, he’s subconsciously been more aware of his surroundings, but definitely not to the point of actively looking for Ash. He understands that part of him is worried that Ash became so aggressive to the point of putting a gun to his side because Eiji’s was giving off the personality of someone who was angry or threatening. Eiji still had the fading bruise to prove it, if that was true. He didn’t want to be perceived that way and tried his best to stay away from confrontation unless it found him. In this case, he supposes it found him. But there was the way he was acting that night that was just so uncommon for him that Eiji just wanted to apologize, and he didn’t know if he’d ever get that chance to. He felt an ache in his chest, reminiscent of the one he felt when he boarded the plane to New York. He quickly shoved those thoughts aside for another, much more distant time.

His Coach wanted him to stay in that train of thought, of wondering where he went wrong, why his chest was so hollow and full at the same time, of wanting to apologize but probably never being able to. If it led to places like this, where a familiar hollow emptiness surfaced and thoughts of blood and knives and dark alleyways were prevalent then… A tired smile passed over Eiji’s lips as he met the impossibly dark brown eyes of his Coach when he stopped talking.

“Thank you, Coach,” His voice felt heavy in his mouth in between his quick breaths. He was tired.

“Go head back to the lockers and hit the showers,” Coach Mensah said, clapping Eiji on the back with a thick hand, eyes soft. Eiji had to stop himself from coughing from the force. “I’ll handle the cleanup today.”

“Thank you,” Eiji said, still a little breathless. He grabbed his bags off the side of the track in front of the stands, and packed up for his trek to the lockers. The empty feeling followed him, clinging to him with intent to kill.

“Eiji,” Coach Mensah called suddenly. Eiji jumped a bit at the sound and turned to look at him. “Congrats on the PR by the way.” His coach pointed up at the bar, set at a staggering 18.5ft, lips stretched in a toothy grin. Eiji felt his jaw go slack, lips parting, eyes widening up at the mountain he climbed without knowing it. His coach’s laughter rang out as Eiji hurried to thank him for a third time, not managing to stop the bow in his waist this time.

He watched the bar, walking backwards towards the locker rooms until his coach deconstructed it, wondering how he managed to overcome a feat he hasn’t been able to in months.

The locker rooms were just like the ones he had back in Japan. Simple, and decorated with the university’s colors. Air-fresheners struggled to keep up with the smells in the air, and Eiji walked through a distant lemon scent on the way to his locker, thoughts scattered all over the place. Making quick work of showering and drying off, he took extra time to spray himself down with some form of cologne. It was something his mother sent to him that he didn’t particularly care for, but it was strong enough to cover the heavy locker room musk. 

It was still hot out in Manhattan, the near headiness of the humidity doing wonders on his lungs, making every movement after running drill after drill a living nightmare, and it was no different in the locker rooms. This automatic movement of dressing himself let his mind wander haphazardly until it zeroed in on why thinking of Ash helped him so much, and the stunned awe at making a new PR because of it. Tucking his black shirt into his blue denim jeans and buckling his brown belt, Eiji slipped on his university bomber jacket, a black, white and blue combination that he got when he arrived on campus for the first time. It was much too hot for this right now, but some of his teammates had invited him out tonight, and asked Eiji to join them in wearing their school’s colors together. It wasn’t his usual style, but he enjoyed the solidarity it gave him and his teammates. After a thought, he sprayed the jacket down, too, just in case.

Taking a look at his phone, his sim card now purchased since his alleyway incident and his almost-death, Eiji frowned at the multitude of text messages from his friends. It was nearly 6pm, and they were talking about meeting at the front gates on 116th street and Morningside. It looks like they were talking about heading to some bar in Chinatown, but had already headed to the subways. A message asking Eiji if he’s done with his one on one with coach filtered through the nonsense.

_ >>Hey E, have you begun to head our way yet?_

Eiji smiled a bit, moving to roll his deodorant on before throwing it into his locker next to his bag. He’d come back and grab everything tomorrow after morning practice. The person in particular who asked was another exchange student, by the name of JaeHyun. For some reason, he’s taken to Eiji. He types a quick reply to the chat, slipping into his old black running shoes. 

_ >>Yes, I am on my way now. Please send me the address so I may meet up with you at the bar._

Eiji closed his locker, turning the dial a few times before he patted his back pocket to ensure his wallet was with him before heading out and onto the street. Based on the address JaeHyun sent to him, he’d have to take the subways to get there. Eiji had never been to that side of the city yet, but based on how the team was chattering on in the groupchat about how much fun Eiji would have, and how happy they were he was finally getting out and about instead of running and working on his studies all the time, Eiji could only conclude that this is definitely a bar that sold alcohol to minors.

Pulling up his maps, Eiji found the quickest route to where his friends would be waiting for him. He’d have to walk a bit before taking the subways over to Chinatown. Texting JaeHyun that he’d be there in about a half hour, he began his trek out of the locker rooms and onto the city street. The myriad of replies telling Eiji to hurry up and to get there safely nearly masked the reply he got from JaeHyun that listed the bar name. After some struggling to copy the name through the bombardment of messages, Eiji looked it up. Apparently, it was a family owned and operated bar that’s been in business since the early 80s. The name was strange, even for Manhattan. While it was common to have bars have some form of number in them, this one was just called Bar 42. Based on the description, it was open until 4am, which in this part of the world, shouldn’t be too much of a surprise. Even in Japan, they had bars that were open this late, but Eiji had never had the opportunity to go to one. Not that he really had the interest or the time to. He'd pass the bright lights on his way back to Izumo from his weekend trips to Tokyo where his father was, but aside from that he never strayed from his small hometown until now.

He trudged his way through the weekend Manhattan crowds, avoiding eyes and trying to limit physical contact wherever he could. He never liked being in crowded places, and his disdain for cities that began when he got here, started to grow exponentially. Pulling his headphones out of his coat pocket, he plugged them into his phone. If he had to manage the headache coming on from overstimulation, he’d at least give his ears a break.

_Don’t._

It was soft, but a present, persistent stinging behind his eyes, this notice of danger, that word whispered to him. Instincts drilled into him from years prior were always insistent, bartering for his life at any turn. Eiji has had to battle that need for years, the one that made him jumpy and nervous, the one that has only really hindered his growth. Or so he’s been told. He knew that anyone walking around with both headphones in, if they weren’t paying too much attention to their surroundings, was in danger in crowds. Of course he knew that. Some part of him was scared of this, but despite how “unnatural” they were (or seemed to be), he trusted his instincts too much to feel like he’d be in serious danger. He trusted that he’d be able to at least run from whatever threat came his way.

That’s why it was so odd for Eiji to talk and speak to Ash the way that he did. The reaction the blond so easily pulled out of him nearly shattered the foundation Eiji was raised on. 

Hitting shuffle on his most recent American music playlist, he settled into the flow of pedestrian traffic. There was no logical explanation for it, not one that he could think of, anyways. Maybe Eiji just thought that Ash wasn’t as dangerous as he first interpreted him as. Now that was something he’d have to think about later. All disastrous thoughts of blond hair and green eyes aside, he forced his mind to wander back to today’s PR. He’d be trying for _weeks,_ even before he came to the states, to get over the plateau he’d reached, and he only managed to do so by thinking about that rude, blond, probably murderous American? Eiji felt his face scrunch up with annoyance. This in combination with the way Eiji spoke to the American just solidified his discontent with this situation.

How ironic that the person who caused him so much confusion and grief was the reason why he was able to stop himself from worrying about whether or not he’d even make it over a height like that. Eiji tried to find some greater meaning in all of this but came up empty handed. After thinking too long about it, Eiji wrote it off as a coincidence. It had to be, anyway.

His feet had miraculously managed to carry him to the entrance of the correct subway line without getting him lost or run over. This almost fugue-like state that reared its ugly head whenever he got too lost in his thoughts was rare, but still happened too often. It was a nasty habit that normally happens when he’s out on his runs. If his mother had seen him now, walking in a foreign city with headphones in, not paying attention to where he was or where he was going, he’s sure she’d have too many words to say and not enough vocabulary to express it. 

Sighing at himself, he placed his hand in his pocket, fishing for the black mask he carried with him. Finding it, he slipped it over his mouth and nose before heading down the stairs into Manhattan’s underbelly. Since getting here, he’d had a hard time getting over the smells down in the mess of trains and grease and mechanics, and if he could stifle that in any way, he was more than happy to. He wondered absently if Japan’s subways were like this.

Looking at his phone again as he walked to a less crowded area of the platform. He shuffled his songs once more and took the time to look at the transit map. Based on what it said, he’d take the 2 downtown and then he’d have to transfer trains. Eiji’s eyebrows pulled together as he settled on the platform behind the yellow marking. He’s never had to switch trains before today. He’s sure he’d get there just fine, but figuring out which station to exit at, if it’s not the main express line, would be difficult. 

The familiar sound of a subway train careening down the tracks and the shifting bodies shuffling towards the yellow line to peer down the tunnel had Eiji looking up to see if it was his. For a moment, shocked emeralds shining in the dim lights of the station, with blond locks whipping around a pale face, flashed in Eiji’s periphery. The familiarity of the person across the tracks had Eiji’s heart pick up, then stutter, head turning to see if it really was him. Before he had a chance to register if the person he saw _was_ Ash, two trains, one headed uptown and the other downtown, whipped wind in indignation at the bystanders and shot past his view of the other side. This would be a cruel joke if it really was the man he brought home a week ago. If Ash was here, didn’t that mean Eiji was in danger? Was _Ash_ in danger? Something churned in his stomach and told him _no,_ _you idiot, even people like Ash have lives outside of getting knocked unconscious and stabbed._

Eiji felt his shocked face falter a bit at that realization. He’d never considered himself to be stereotypical, and he tries his best not to be, but he just couldn’t tell what Ash did for a living. Eiji hoped, after a mental fight about it not being a good profession because _of course it’s not a good profession if you’re getting knocked unconscious and stabbed, Eiji,_ that Ash, in whatever line of work he was in, truly had a way to protect himself. He didn’t have time to berate himself on that gut instinct of worry and guilt, of reaching for someone that’s not even a constant in his life, as his eyes caught deep, bright jade once more. He’d have to apologize for stereotyping him, too.

His eyes, soft and searching, scanned through the windows of the subways as they began to slow, their end cars closing in quickly. Eiji’s hand that had been holding his phone at chest level fell to his side. A song with heavy guitar and vocals he couldn’t understand or care to try and translate pounded in his ears in time with his heartbeat. His jacket, hair, and the wire from his headphones whipped in the weakening winds but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He kept catching green in the moments when the train windows lined up, hair crossing in front of them, clothes fluttering beneath them. Each time their eyes met, Eiji felt his muscles coil like he was about to risk it all and hop the tracks. For a moment, he thought he saw green widen with panic at the subtle movement. His jaw set hard in his mouth, teeth grinding together. The alarms that went off in his head, a pounding in his skull not from the song’s heavy drums, nearly crippled him.

_Run._

He could feel his lungs expanding with the urge to _go_ at this word that filtered through the noise in his ears. It was just like all those years ago, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, begging his muscles to run, to sprint, to jump, to fly. Instead, his fingers twitched over the volume button, making the music louder in his ears, trying desperately to drown out the voice within him. It had told him to go, to jump the tracks. Eiji was stunned at this war that was raging behind his eyes. The voices of the song and the voice of his confused consciousness mixed and mingled, and he took a cautious step closer to the yellow line that separated life from death. In the moment he was able to see Ash on the other side, eyes looking clearly panicked, despite the calmness on his face. Eiji couldn’t tell whether or not it was due to their encounter, or the way Eiji’s body was moving on its own.

The trains slowed, miraculously lining the windows up, and to Eiji’s surprise, those green eyes were still there, staring at him, watching him. Eiji took another cautious step forward, feet now on the yellow line, letting the crowd filter in front of him to enter the train. His eyes never left Ash’s. 

This didn’t feel like a coincidence, despite the earlier conclusion. Eiji started to believe that it probably wasn’t one. At this, his rational mind sternly set the reminder that Manhattan was _big_ and there were so many people in it that this just had to be one. His realistic mind hissed at him and told him, yes, Manhattan was _big_. _Too_ big. How could this be a coincidence at all? Eiji felt his resolve weaken, strings snapping and tearing with each beat of his aching heart.

Eiji didn’t imagine he looked very recognizable, not right now, anyway. Mask and university jacket, no outwardly defining feature, eyes nearly hidden by his bangs that desperately needed to be trimmed. There was no way that Ash, or anyone else would be able to recognize him. But those jade eyes seemed so shocked, seemed so responsive to Eiji’s movement, that Eiji knew that Ash just had to recognize him. 

_Stand clear of the closing doors, please._

Eiji’s hand shot out, stopping the doors from sliding shut and he entered the train as quickly as he could, only tearing his eyes away from the ones piercing into his own when he was bumped by a rather large and portly man. Eiji quickly dipped his head down, a submissive gesture that made his stomach lurch uncomfortably to stop the man from starting anything. The man had stared at him for longer than what Eiji thought was necessary before he turned his nose and moved to a more crowded section of the train.

Manhattan sure was something.

Eiji lifted his head to where Ash was as the doors closed him off from the platform behind him and found the blond gone. He could feel the urges start to dissipate, and with it, he felt relief and… something else. Emptiness, maybe, but deeper than the one he felt before. While that didn’t surprise Eiji in the slightest, he was surprised at just how quickly the blond had left and how hollow he felt now, the earlier contrasting fullness that was present earlier completely gone. That strange pull in his chest had been so strong, the hammering of his heart matching and nearly masking the beat of the drums roaring in his ears, that he welcomed the incoming silence of the rampaging thoughts in his head.

The train lurched from it’s stopped position, crawled at first, then shot off to a quick speed. Eiji’s hand reached the metal pole nearest to him, holding lightly as the momentum leveled out as the train careened down the tracks, headed for downtown.

Eiji stared at his feet as a story his mother once told him came to the forefront of his mind. She would whisper to him before bed, when he was tucked into his thick comforter, her hand stroking gently through his hair. She would tell him stories of how many people were destined to meet, a string tied to their pinkies over vast distances. That those people, through any means of it all, would come together and make history. The string could get tangled or caught or pulled so tight you’d think it’d break, but it never would. Eyes flickering up at his hand resting on the pole, eyes focused on just about where that string would be metaphorically tied, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, his mother wasn’t lying to him.

Eiji spent the next twenty minutes of the trip down the Manhattan subway lines thinking. 

He realized, after ten odd minutes of staring at an ad across from him that was talking about the stages of grief and counseling services in the area, that he didn’t really get any closure after Ash left his apartment that night. Ash was almost dead, or at least that’s what it felt like to Eiji, and not really knowing if his botched medical job was good enough to sustain the blond until he was able to get proper treatment. He moved around well enough in the apartment to look like he wasn’t in any pain, but there was something more hidden beneath those cold jade eyes. Eiji shivered just thinking about how vast they were.

As the train he transferred into stopped two stations before he was supposed to get off to meet his friends, he was still mulling over the bigger picture and coming to terms with the fact that, yes, he did see Ash, and yes, he was alive, and _yes_ , he could put all of this behind him now. As people exited and then entered the train, his mind was too caught up in itself to really care too much about them. He did care, however, to notice a man settling in right next to him, leaning against the railing on the opposite side of the door. Eiji’s eyes flickered down to his feet as the train doors closed, and the body lurched forward again. The man next to him shifted, and Eiji's mind took note of him, eyes flickering over to his form. He had a dark blue denim jacket, black shirt, and standing blond hair. Lean, thin, and an air of superiority. Eiji averted his eyes as quickly as he could when he saw the look on the man’s face. 

Exiting the train a bit too quickly when his station arrived, he tried to ignore the way he felt a pair of eyes follow him on the way out. He pulled his phone out once he climbed to the top of the stairs, not daring to wait until the train door slipped shut, checking maps and texting JaeHyun to let him know he’s nearby. JaeHyun’s instant reply to look up and ahead of him had the feeling of unease that began to consume him lift slowly. Eiji did, and he saw a familiar mass of blue and white and black. They were all wearing their university jackets today, and Eiji felt a swell of warmth and belonging expand over his chest and warm his extremities.

The familiar faces of his teammates sharpened the closer he got, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself. The team may be a strange mix of mostly Americans, with one or two foreigners like himself thrown in there, but they’re closer to a team than Eiji’s ever had. 

“Hey, E!” JaeHyun said, raising a hand to wave him over. His black hair and short stature stood out amidst a sea of tall blond and light brown haired men. JaeHyun was often seen only for his size and stature, standing at a proud 5'4, but he decided to come to the states to compete in the triple jump and to study economic international affairs. Eiji noticed first that JaeHyun was the only one who acknowledged him at first, the other four too encompassed in their actual conversation to think too much about what JaeHyun was doing. The five, soon to be six, of them stood near the entrance to Chinatown. Chinatown itself was unmarked, the only noticeable thing about it being the Chinese signs adorning shops and buildings on the street.

“JaeHyun,” Eiji smiled at the boy, walking into their circle as they parted almost on instinct, accepting his presence. A large hand slapped against his back, a baritone laugh ringing in his ears. That was Adam, a Manhattan native that was built like an ox. He rivaled Coach Mensah’s size, but was wider, more muscular. He competed in shot-put on the team.

“Eiji,” Adam said, leaning in close, a grin on his pale face, minty breath ghosting over Eiji’s skin. He was ginger, freckled and red-bearded, and he beamed at him with mischief in his green eyes. Eiji had to stop himself from remembering Ash’s eyes. “Are you ready?”

Eiji looked up at his teammate, a nervous smile forming on his lips, “Ready for what?”

As if he had been personally offended, Adam scoffed, leaning back, “For the best night of your _life,_ my Japanese friend!” Eiji shot a glance at JaeHyun, who merely shrugged in response. 

Adam cackled, throwing his head back and wrapping a firm arm around Eiji’s shoulders, “Oh Eiji,” the glint in his eyes told Eiji all he needed to know. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, we’ll take good care of you.” All of his teammates now looked at this scene, faces beaming with excitement and something devilish.

Eiji laughed nervously, and let himself be dragged along down the street towards Bar 42. 

The bar wasn’t as extravagant on the outside as it was on the inside when they arrived, a bar on the left hand side, tons of alcohol covering the wall behind it, tables and chairs littered around pool tables and space for dart playing. It was moderately busy, mostly inhabited by the residents of Chinatown, and Eiji had wondered when they passed the stairs that led down to it if this bar had any association with the restaurant tucked neatly above it. It was called Chang-Dai, and the smells wafting from the opened front door had Eiji’s mouth watering. He was down on calories for today, and would have to order something heavy from the bar’s menu. When his teammates walked down to the bar, Eiji tried to commit Chang-Dai’s sign to memory. He’d have to make a trip on his own to return and try some of the food from there. Despite his home country being so close to China, Eiji had never actually experienced authentic Chinese food before. He figured that Chinatown was as close as it was going to get.

Four fake IDs and two real ones flashed to a bartender and waitress that couldn’t care less, Eiji watched as exactly an hour and a half later, he became the only sober one left standing. JaeHyun tried to last as long as he could, but ultimately failed when his third shot was emptied, glass clinking onto the table. Turns out, JaeHyun was a lightweight and a happy drunk. Adam had gotten Eiji a beer at the start of it all, and Eiji was too kind to decline him. He figured he’d at least pretend like he’d be drinking, and had been nursing on it since. He was both surprised and pleased that they had Sapporo in house and in stock and that Adam had bought it for him. It wasn’t his favorite beer, but it was definitely close enough to remind him of home, and calm him down. Eiji took another small sip before setting the glass down on the sticky table. He chuckled at the scene in front of him, watching how Adam tried too hard to understand JaeHyun’s heavily accented story. Adam was quiet when he finally tipped over the edge of sobriety, a vast difference from his normal personality.

Eiji wandered over to the bar not long after his group of rowdy teammates asked him to get them water, a few whining that he was still able to stand without falling over. One eye roll from Eiji, three snide comments from the guys not stuffing their faces with the nacho platter they purchased, and a short walk left Eiji leaning on the glossy wood of the bar, waiting patiently for the bartender to walk over. The music that pumped through the speakers wasn't overbearing, but it was still loud enough to cause some trouble hearing things.

“Excuse me,” he said, making eye contact with a rather extravagant shade of purple, then down to a set of dark sunglasses beneath it. The bartender wore a black shirt with the Bar’s Logo on the left breast in neat, yellow print, and from what Eiji could see, a pair of ripped blue jeans. “So sorry to bother you.” His voice took on an apologetic one, hoping to not come off as too pushy.

“Bro,” the man said, voice accented in a strange mix of light Chinese and all New York. He stood in front of Eiji now, resting his forearms on the counter, mimicking Eiji’s pose. “It’s literally my job to _be_ bothered. What can I help you with, man?”

Eiji’s face flushed a light red, and he looked away from the man, “I am just hoping to get some water sent over to my friends.” Eiji turned, eyes on the table of laughing men behind him. “They are quite useless right now, and I did not want to bother the waitress.”

When he turned back to look at the bartender, his shades were lower on the man’s nose and he was staring at Eiji with confused hazel eyes.

“W-what?” Eiji said, leaning back a bit, the flush on his face turning darker. “Was it something I said? Did I speak incorrectly?” His english was good, but it just wasn’t up to par sometimes despite learning it since he was young.

Snorting, a strange, choked sound, the bartender moved to gather five glasses, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Eiji’s flush slowly faded and he was reminded of his younger sister, brows pulling together, teeth gnawing on a snippy comment he had floating to the front of his lips, nearly slipping out. _This man is not your sister_ , he had to remind himself. _You cannot be making snide comments._

The bartender seemed to see this look of annoyance adorning Eiji’s face, and he barked out a large laugh, “I’m just messing with you, man. Pretty shitty of them to bring you out here, get drunk, and then ask you to get water for them, though. The waitress here has got a pretty nasty resting bitch face, but she’s happy to help you guys out.” He filled up the six glasses with water. “In fact,” he started, looking over to where the waitress was heading back to the bar. She looked at him when he did an upward movement of his head, eyebrows raising before falling back down, the smirk on his face was easy, like he knew this woman. “Hey, you mind taking these to that table over there?” Eiji wondered what this woman was to the bartender, as she approached. He stuck his tongue out at her, which didn’t surprise Eiji much. What did, was how the waitress exhaled a laugh out of her nose, a small smile on her features. Without a word, she skillfully grabbed all six glasses and walked them over to Eiji’s teammates. Eiji watched as each of them cheered, thanking her with slurred enthusiasm.

A prickling sensation, like limbs numb from being deprived of blood for too long, filtered through Eiji’s chest as he watched them forget, just like everyone else does.

“So,” the bartender said, catching Eiji’s attention once more. Eiji leaned his arms onto the table again, and the bartender did the same. “What brings a foreigner like you to the beautiful city of Manhattan?”

“I am here for school,” Eiji said, looking down at the emblem on his bomber jacket. “Only for a year or so.”

The bartender whistled, staring at the jacket, “Columbia, huh? That’s a tough school to get into, and expensive, too. Why Columbia?”

Eiji scrunched his nose at the man, lips moving too quickly to catch the comment before it escaped, “Can I have your name first before we start asking each other out to a dinner?”

The man gaped at him, mouth parted slightly.

Eiji gasped, a hand moving to cover his mouth, face burning, “Oh, I am so sorry. Please forgive me, I-”

The bartender’s laugh shook Eiji to his core. It was raspy and harsh, and a hand came over the barrier of the bar and clapped down onto Eiji’s shoulder, “Oh my _god_.” His laughter, if Eiji wasn’t _horrified_ , would be infectious. “No-, no worries, my guy.” The bartender removed his hand from Eiji’s shoulder and wiped some tears from his eyes under his shades.

Eiji’s hand moved a few centimeters from his mouth, to talk once more, “I- I am so sorry.”

Snorting again, the bartender extended his hand, “Hey, no need for apologies. I like guys like you, forward and blunt. Name’s Shorter, Shorter Wong.”

Eiji moved the hand over his mouth and reached out, grasping Shorter’s, “Eiji.” He noticed that Shorter’s hand was wide and rough, calluses in specific spots on his palms and fingers. His own hand sported his own calluses, but these on Shorter were not the hands of an athlete or a working man. “It is very nice to meet you.”

“Eiji, huh,” Shorter hummed, giving Eiji’s hand a firm shake. Eiji replied in turn, squeezing to match the strength of Shorter’s grip. “Japanese?”

“Shorter Wong,” Eiji said, a sly smile on his lips, taking his hand from Shorter’s. “Chinese?”

Huffing, Shorter grinned, hands moving under the bar, eyes not looking at Eiji, “Cheeky. I like you.”

Eiji let a small laugh go and watched as Shorter worked to gather two glasses. A murky, brown liquid was poured into both, and then a splash of what Eiji would assume to be coke followed. There was an easy rapport building between the two of them that Eiji found both familiar and comforting, and as he watched Shorter make the drinks, he couldn’t help but smile a little bit softer.

“Here,” Shorter slid one glass over to him. “A Rum and coke for your troubles,” his hand came up when Eiji reached for his wallet. “It’s on the house.”

“Thank you, Shorter,” Eiji said, wrapping a hand around the glass. Based on the tone in Shorter’s voice, Eiji was sure that there was an ulterior motive here.

“It’s no big deal,” Shorter took a swig of his drink. “ _But_.” There it was.

“But?” Eiji lifted his glass to his lips, taking a small sip and settling into the seat to the left of him. The drink wasn’t bad at all.

“In exchange for my generosity, of taking you in at my bar, and giving you a free rum and coke, and also saving you from your shitty, shitty friends—”

“They are not shitty,” Eiji interjected.

“—you’re going to have to answer a few questions of mine.”

“This does not seem very fair,” Eiji murmured into his glass, eyes flicking up to look at the purple-haired man. Shorter didn’t seem to be a stranger to negotiation.

But neither was Eiji.

“Would you rather play twenty questions?” Shorter asked, crossing his arms over his chest. His smirk was easy, playful. 

“I would rather us both ask the questions,” Eiji’s eyes met the ones behind Shorter’s glasses, a silent challenge floating across the space separating them.

Shorter held his gaze for quite some time, and Eiji did not falter.

“Fair enough,” Shorter conceded with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’ll start.”

Eiji, despite his amusement with the situation, was confused. Why was Shorter interested in him? This man seemed so open to everything, and yet so very closed off. His mass of purple hair was distracting, but his demeanor was calm, as if he was so much wiser than Eiji. Maybe he was.

“So why come to a bar if you’re obviously uncomfortable?” Shorter asked, pulling what Eiji assumed to be a stool over to him and taking a seat. “It seems unfair that they brought you here and that you obviously don’t drink.” His eyes flickered down to the glass that Eiji was nursing on.

“I am a student athlete,” Eiji coolly supplied. It was true, he _was_ uncomfortable in bars. He didn't enjoy drinking. “Being inebriated or things of that kind is not really beneficial to what I do.” And while Eiji has had his share of alcohol and parties, he was rather reserved since heading to college. 

“Ah, so is that why you’re here in Manhattan at Columbia?” 

Eiji had set it up, but he had to admit that it was quite a smooth segue. Shorter definitely wanted information on him, and Eiji wasn't the going to give it away that easily. Looks like this will definitely be a battle of words. 

“No, not exactly,” Eiji said, taking another small sip of his rum and coke, thinking of the taste to give himself enough time for the words to ruminate in the air between the two. It was light enough to just taste like the sugary drink, but there was a bitterness that clung to his mouth when he swallowed. If this man was anything like his younger sister then... “I _am_ going to college to learn, you know. But what about yourself? You do not look like you are old enough to be a bartender, let alone old enough to drink legally.”

Shorter scoffed, looking a little offended, “I’m 19, thank you very much! Almost 20, at that!” 

  
Eiji eyed him over his glass and set it down after another sip, hiding his triumphant smile. They were the same age, though. That didn’t surprise him much.

“Still not legal,” Eiji chastised. “At least you are old enough that you can work at a place like this.”

“Dude,” Shorter said, aghast, like this was the first time someone ever dared to pressure him on how he shouldn't be working at a bar, or drinking underage, for that matter. “You don’t even know what the laws are in New York, do you?”

Eiji’s brows pulled together and he leveled Shorter with a look, “I may be a foreigner, Shorter, but we _do_ have Google in Japan.”

Shorter laughed again, a short burst of chuckles and clapped Eiji on the shoulder once more before he hopped over the bar and sat down in the stool next to him, “You just keep getting funnier, you know?”

“I am quite the,” Eiji paused, staring down at his drink. There was a saying for this, wasn’t there? His face scrunched up and Shorter lowered his sunglasses to look at Eiji, waiting patiently for him. He must have had experience with foreigners and said foreigners forgetting how to speak English.

Eiji snapped his fingers, and looked at Shorter expectantly, “Laughing stock!”

Shorter’s eyes widened and he sucked in a breath through his nose, “You-” he inhaled once more, lungs surely at capacity now if how his face turned a strange hue of red said anything about it. “You mean a-, a—”

Eiji put a hand on Shorter’s shoulder, genuine concern and slight panic filtering through his body, “Shorter, are you feeling ill?” He'd never seen a color like that on someone's face before.

“A-,” Shorter’s chest shook and he swallowed thickly, lips twitching. “You mean a-, a laugh riot?” 

Eiji’s concern faded quickly, replaced now by embarrassment, “Shorter, it is not funny.” His voice sounded almost desperate. At that, Shorter’s resolve cracked, and he started hollering with laughter, doubling over and placing his head onto the bar’s counter.

Eiji turned away from the man, plucking a straw violently from the nearest holder and ripping the paper off of it. Shoving it into his drink he frowned at his muddy reflection. What did he say wrong?

It took a little while for Eiji to be able to talk to Shorter again after that, only because every time Shorter would look at Eiji, he’d start laughing again. After he calmed down enough, Shorter got them both some water when Eiji finally finished nursing his rum and coke. The rest of their conversation consisted of Shorter explaining to Eiji that a _laughing stock_ and a _laugh riot_ were two things that meant the opposite of each other. Shorter was also kind enough to tell him a few more things about America, too. Mostly about how people in Manhattan didn’t really care what you do or what you did or who you are so long as you keep to yourself. Eiji had nodded, happy to get some inside information on how Manhattan worked and relieved by what he found out. Where he was from, people were always happy to help and to stick their noses into other people’s business so long as it had nothing to do with emotions. Eiji, being as reserved as he normally is, found the act of butting into the personal lives of his neighbors and friends obscene and upsetting.

Not that he really had any friends to check in with from time to time. 

Shorter did ask a few prying questions about Eiji. Where he was from, what he was really doing here in New York. Eiji gave him the barest of information before poking fun at Shorter and changing the topic, which, to Eiji’s muted surprise, worked every time. He wasn’t entirely sure what kind of answer Shorter was looking for, but Eiji wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing too much about him. The questions about his family, his last name, what part of Japan he came from, if he’d been anywhere else in the states, what his home life was, if he had any siblings, everything that had to do with who Eiji was, Eiji avoided like the plague. Each question was expertly segued and brought back to Shorter and his family, his life, what he’s doing.

 _Keep it in the family,_ his father’s stern voice reminded him.

“I should probably head back,” Eiji said after a rather long conversation about where Shorter grew up. His older sister, Nadia, was the waitress, and apparently didn’t take too kindly to hearing him say she had a “resting bitch face.” Eiji saw the way she frowned at his snicker from across the bar. Chinatown was his home, and his parents had come over on the boats when he was still in his mother’s belly. Their way was paved for them and all expenses taken care of by the ruling family over here, the Lee’s. They were sort of like emissaries and ambassadors for Chinese families heading over to the states from China, Shorter had explained to him. After that, they created Chang-Dai, and subsequently, the bar beneath it. Shorter seemed rather indebted to them, and when he took off his sunglasses to wipe at his tired eyes, Eiji saw a hint of pride behind the rough seas of hazel. He looked older when he talked about them, like there was a war raging in his body. Eiji didn't press any further on the Lee family when Shorter stopped talking about them.

“Leaving so soon?” Shorter said, adjusting his watch on his wrist. “It’s barely midnight!”

“Well,” Eiji said, leaning back into his seat. He was very grateful these bar stools had backs on them. “It may be a Friday, but I still have practice tomorrow.”

  
“Ohhh, that’s right,” Shorter said, rubbing his neck. “Believe it or not, I forgot you were an athlete. You’re so,” he could feel Shorter’s eyes looking him up and down, searching for the word. “Unassuming.”

Eiji winked at him, a smile on his face, “That is the point, is it not?”

Chuckling, Shorter turned to get off of his stool, “Sure is, isn’t it?” A pause, then a hesitant, “Uh, Eiji, my man.”

Eiji, sipping on the last of his water, turned in his seat. He felt his heart drop to the floor in a bloody heap when he saw the table his friends were at vacant, glasses being picked up by the waitress for the next set of six to take that table. He set his glass down onto the bar, reaching for his phone in his pocket, eyes never leaving the table. He pressed the home button and tore his gaze away to look at his notifications and found none. Just to make sure, he opened his phone, and found no new notifications from anyone.

“Eiji,” Shorter said, eyes on the phone in Eiji’s hands. “Hey man, I’m sorry.”

Blinking, Eiji lifted his head, “Why are you apologizing to me, Shorter?” He smiled at him, genuine, despite the soft ache in his chest, “It is not a big deal. They were inebriated, and they did not think to message me. They probably assumed that I went home for the evening after the waitress gave them the water.”

That just had to be why.

Shorter, seemingly pleased by this, nodded, “A’ight. Still sucky of them to leave you out here like this. Have you ever even been to this side of Chinatown before?”

“I have not been to Chinatown at all since this evening,” Eiji admitted, leaning back in his chair once more, eyes on the phone in his hands. It was 12:06am. The photo he took right before he left Japan of the train station his family used. His family’s receding forms glowed up at him. It was a pretty mediocre photo, but Eiji felt waves of comfort when he looked at it.

Shorter stared at him, taking him in, “That’s not good.”

Scrunching his face, Eiji looked Shorter in the eye now, “What do you mean by that? What is not good?”

“It’s okay coming here with friends, most people who walk around this area do,” Shorter sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes, lit now by one of the signs in the bar, surveyed Eiji’s form. “But you aren’t Chinese and it's late and you're by yourself. You’ve got a target on your back, too.” Shorter’s hand moved, tapping the blue C on Eiji’s jacket before folding over the other arm once again. A chill ran down Eiji’s spine and his stomach lurched. This definitely felt wrong.

Shorter seemed to be weighing something, fingers tapping against his skin, eyes never leaving Eiji's face.

“I can call a cab,” Eiji said, not wanting to trouble Shorter any longer. His eyes moved to the phone in his hands again, fingers skillfully unlocking it. “It is fine.”

Shorter’s large, callused hand came and covered Eiji’s phone screen, gripping a bit too tight. Eiji’s eyes met Shorter’s as he said, “Don’t do that.”

“Shorter,” Eiji’s voice was soft, confused. “What is happening?”

“I’ll walk you to the subway,” Shorter said, standing. The one in his voice felt final. This time, when he went to the other side of the bar, he walked around to the small door that led into the space. “You’re not,” Shorter paused, not looking at Eiji. Eiji watched as Shorter stumbled over his words, gathering up his phone and his yellow jacket and then ducking under the bar, away from Eiji’s prying, wide eyes. He rose, fixing his shirt, as if he had placed something into his pocket.

“I’m not,” Eiji asked, leaning forward to catch Shorter’s eyes again, using this to try and see what exactly Shorter put onto his person. “I am not what?” His eyes flickered down to Shorter’s waist and found nothing. In the brief moment that Eiji’s eyes searched for the item and flickered back up to Shorter’s, their eyes locked.

Shorter’s face went hard, “You’ll be safe with me.” It was a statement, and it struck Eiji to his core. What exactly did that mean? “Let’s go. You’re heading back to Columbia, right?”

Eiji shook his head, leaning back slightly, eyes wide, “No, I am returning to my apartment.”

Shorter hopped over the bar's counter again, and Eiji heard Nadia click her tongue in disdain. He wrapped an arm around Eiji’s shoulders and leaned in close, “Okay, can you tell me where that is?” 

Eiji told him, voice hushed by Shorter’s proximity, and Shorter made a face, one that Eiji couldn’t really decipher, “You live in _South Harlem_ , Eiji?” His voice was strained.

“Is that not a good place to live?”

Shorter sighed, rubbed his face with his hand, replied with a voice that reeked of an unspoken _of course you would live there_ , “Well, it could be worse. I’ll just take you the whole way. It’s too late for you to be outside on your own.”

“I am not understanding why this is a problem,” Eiji said softly as he rose from his stool and zipped his hoodie up halfway. Shorter led him to the entrance and they walked out together. “I take runs around my neighborhood often. Quite often, actually.”

“No,” Shorter said as they walked to the nearest subway line. “It’s not a huge problem,” Shorter’s hands gestured in a shrug, palms upward. “South Harlem is fine to live in, just not as safe as it could be. If you don’t know what you’re doing over there, it could be dangerous.”

Eiji thought, for the first time since he got to the bar, about Ash.

“Ah,” Eiji said, staring down at his feet as they walked. “I can see how it can be dangerous over there. I mean...” He trailed off. Ash’s lack of reasoning for being in that alleyway had been on the forefront of his mind for quite a while, and he didn’t put together the signs that the area he was in would be one of the reasons that Ash was there, hurt and bleeding. He wonders if Ash was just someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He felt Shorter watching his expression, taking him in, as if he would continue whatever story was going through his head. When Eiji didn’t continue, Shorter put a hand on his shoulder, “Eiji?”

“Huh?” Looking up, Eiji realized they were stopped at the turnstiles leading to the subway. How did he get down into the subways already? Had they walked that far?

“You didn’t finish your sentence,” Shorter said, calmly hopping over the turnstile with practiced ease. Eiji looked on in distaste and swiped his student metrocard, slipping through the rotating metal bars. “You said you can see how it can be dangerous where you live, and then you said ‘ _I mean_ ’ and never finished your sentence.”

“Oh,” Eiji said as they stood on the platform. “I just… had met someone. He was badly injured, so I took him back to my apartment and cleaned his wound.” Eiji pointedly didn’t look at Shorter. This definitely wouldn't go over well.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Shorter breathed, grasping Eiji’s shoulders once he was close enough. “You literally have no sense of self, do you?”

Eiji let out a hoarse laugh, “That’s what he said, too.”

Ash's voice rang in his ears, clear and deep and like he was standing right next to him: _"Where is your sense of self-preservation?"_

“You _talked_ to him?” Shorter’s tone was tight, taking on a familial concern Eiji was all too familiar with.

“What was I supposed to do?” Eiji’s voice was small, like he was being chastised by an older brother. It certainly felt that way.

“Definitely not that,” Shorter sounded tired, dropping his hands from Eiji’s shoulders. “Whatever. Just don’t do it again.”

“I did not have any plans to do so.” And that was the truth.

The train roared down the subway again, and stopped with screeching wheels. Shorter entered after Eiji did, and Eiji didn’t exactly know how to feel about that. They sat in the rather vacant car, and Shorter made light conversation about Eiji’s english. He was very surprised that someone who had never been to the states before could speak so well, and so fluently. Eiji told him that he had been learning for a while, and that his father was fluent in many different languages. Shorter looked impressed. Eiji had to stop himself from feeling bashful and almost proud that Shorter was impressed by him. These gentle questions went back and forth, and the trip back to South Harlem was smooth and quick. Eiji had led him from that point through the familiar streets leading to his apartment.

“Here,” Shorter said, standing at the side entrance to Eiji’s apartment. “Take my phone number.”

“Oh,” Eiji said, fishing his phone out of his pocket and handing it to Shorter. “Here.”

Shorter punched in his number and handed his phone back to Eiji, “If you ever need anything, or if you just want to talk, _or_ if you happen to be in Chinatown again, shoot me a text.”

Eiji nodded, tucking the phone into his pocket once more, “Of course. Thank you for your company, Shorter. I appreciate it.”

Shorter grinned, backing up, hands in his pockets, as Eiji turned to key into his apartment complex, “Any time, man.”

Eiji waved at his receding form and slipped through the metal door before heading up to his apartment. When he finally settled into his bed for the night, he found himself warm, mind lighter with the thought that maybe, just maybe, Shorter would become something of a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see y'all in the next one  
> -mors

**Author's Note:**

> see y'all in the next one.  
> -mors


End file.
